Directionless

You know those days when you shake into life and face the day with no direction?

You wake with the sun, whether it be on the horizon or high in the sky, time falls away, it no longer matters. Instead of reacting to calendar notifications, all you have to worry about is a bit of breakfast, a good coffee and year of the wine airing in the early evening. 

Our little island home was a quiet villa tucked inland at the foot of ominous volcanos. 

Every now and then, unnerved by lack of direction, I'd amble amongst the fruit trees and vines in the garden. 

The lemon trees, ripe with fresh fruit, would serve as a key detox ingredient each day after lazy afternoons sipping aired Rioja the night before, afternoons which led to evenings, which led to nights in the nearby town. 

Those lazy days, steered only by excitement and a taste for life, often end up the best, the most memorable. 

Time spent under the sun, outside, breathing in life, never feels like a burden or chore. 

There are wider things going on in the periphery right now, big steps and daring new ventures. Catching up on contracts and reviewing new opportunities came as a breath of fresh air every now and then. 

We would sit outside in the early hours as the winds rolled in across the atlantic, sipping coffee, reading the papers and taking smalls steps to build a young firm. 

No matter how much paperwork though, there was always time to fall asleep poolside. 

It wasn't a tough view, it was easy to handle. Each evening we would pour a glass of wine and sit talking until the skies fell dark. 

We initially hired a Mini to potter around the island. However, when I got to the Thrifty car hire booth at the airport, that little petrol head of mine couldn't resist a 1 series instead. After having had two, I just couldn't resist. 

On evenings when the clouds rolled in with rain, we would jump in the car and make our way to a nearby town. 

We often found ourselves in Puerto del Carmen, meandering through the sea front, picking out locations for dinner. 

Watching the retired migrants to the island, the young couples, the island returners, as we mulled over menus and engaged in endless chatter. 

Puerto Bahia looking out onto the harbour was a favourite. 

There we sat watching the sun dip down, grazed through plates of local favourites...

Until the plates were clear, glasses empty, and time to head home.